


Healing

by thimble



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F, Post-Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 23:49:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2830496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thimble/pseuds/thimble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It could have happened right before they entered the portal, the light painting their faces gold, or after any of the times they saved each other’s lives, disguised as a thank-you. It could’ve been during their reunion, or in the rare, quieter days when an apocalypse wasn’t looming above their heads; it could have been in the first time Korra laid eyes on her and realized she was in the presence of a beautiful girl.</p><p>(There have been other chances, and other places, and none of them were as good and right as now.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bokuut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokuut/gifts).



> first lok fic! posted on tumblr right after the finale but now with the big news i thought it should go here too.

There have been other chances. 

She doesn’t have the exact number and location for some; she isn’t a man of science and data like Varrick, who might have calculated the highest probability for success and picked out the right moment in the pile. She’s not quite as nostalgic, romantically-inclined as Pema, who saw her past as a storybook where the heroine never stopped fighting for what she wanted; believing unconditionally that the hands of fate shaped her destiny the way it should be, that love was on her side. On the other end of the spectrum she isn’t like Lin either, seeing those missed opportunities as mistakes she can never undo; maybe she doesn’t have it in her to be bitter, maybe an avatar’s heart is impossible to completely harden. 

If only she could ask her other lives what they would have done, or what they did do, in situations like these. She could prod Katara for the most recent example, would be a big comfort to know that the mighty Aang screwed up once or twice. At least she’s positive she isn’t like Mako, who jumped in headfirst without thought for consequence— 

No, that’s not right. She’d been the same when they were younger, demanding that the world bowed down at her feet, that it is her birthright to be happy in exchange for spending her life in service of it. In many ways it’s a thankless job, filled with customers who will never be satisfied even if she offered her own flesh and bone. In others it’s the best job in the world: her name will never be forgotten in history books, her statues will be permanent landmarks, and she’ll have touched and changed more people in her lifetime than she can count. There are all the magnificent acts of bending she’s done, the places she’s travelled to, the people she’s met. 

Mostly that last part. 

And out of all of them there is only one person she could bear to write to in her period of (recovery) isolation; one person whose judgment she never feared when she expressed her doubts about who she is or the limits of her abilities. One person that she thought to bring on a journey like this, because as much as they both wanted to get away she also had an inkling that neither of them could stand to be alone. 

"Just kiss her, Korra," says a shimmery voice, belonging the familiar spirit who always manages to find her, and guide her when it thought she needed it. Apparently, this is one of those times. 

"What makes you think I should do that?" she says as the skin on her throat begins to heat up at having the notion said aloud. The spirit pauses, then looks at her, as if daring her to say it’s got it all wrong. 

"Because you want to, right? And she wants you to." 

"Wait, what?" The spirit hears footsteps and scurries away, despite her outstretched hand and the flushed tremor of her tone. "Come back, we weren’t done talking!" 

"Done talking with what?" says Asami, who cuts through the thin fog to sit beside her, legs outstretched in front as she groans from a presumed muscle ache. 

"Just a spirit," says Korra, the thump of her heart and the heat at her nape not enough to dispel the ease of their conversation, her mouth from flickering into a smirk. "How about you? You done playing Asami the Explorer?" 

Asami glances at her from the edge of her narrowed eyes, lips playfully pursed. “If I didn’t know any better, I'd say you were making fun of me.” 

"Guilty as charged." Korra grins, and the mere sight of it sends Asami into hysterics. Like this she doesn’t seem so poised, not like the pioneer of a major company, or a girl who has seen too much loss; Korra supposes that she herself doesn’t look much like a responsible avatar either, because she’s about to do something monumentally stupid. 

"Hey," she says, soft for the most part, just loud enough to get Asami's attention. Asami stares at her, expectant, her mouth uncharacteristically free of bright color and her eyes crinkled at the corners, and Korra isn’t sure how she’s been able to postpone this for so long. 

(It could have happened right before they entered the portal, the light painting their faces gold, or after any of the times they saved each other’s lives, disguised as a thank-you. It could’ve been during their reunion, to express _I missed you, did you know? I saw you in the sky and in the snow, and when the wind stirred I pictured how it might blow back your hair, and that I almost wrote these on paper before thinking better, and I missed you._

It could have been in the rare, quieter days when an apocalypse wasn’t looming above their heads; it could have been the first time Korra laid eyes on her and realized she was beautiful, in that short second before jealousy took hold. 

There have been other chances, and other places, and none of them were as good and right as now.) 

When she leans in she means for it to be quick, a peck at best to experiment, but when her lips find home it isn’t as easy as she thought it would be to pull away, especially not when Asami tilts her head to accomodate her, when Asami's hand curls around and rests upon her nape to keep her there. It’s not exactly what she imagined it to be — so rushed and spontaneous, strands of hair flitting between their mouths, that mild taste of berries that Korra tucks under her tongue and saves for later — and it’s exactly what she wanted. 

The kiss breaks into two smiles, one for each of them, Asami's highlighted by the faint pink of her cheeks. “I must be the luckiest girl in the world,” Asami says, biting into her bottom lip as Korra traces the action with her eyes, then with her fingertips. 

"Pretty sure that’s me," Korra replies, and leans in again.


End file.
